The First Sign of Parenting
by Gemmi92
Summary: "You're late!" she snapped and he blinked profusely at her, removing his glasses as she screamed out in pain again. "Is it that bad?" he asked her, picking her hand up as she squeezed it tightly so he feared for his circulation. Clearly, the glare he was receiving didn't warrant spoken words for an answer. One Shot to The First Sign of Madness.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm fat."

"You're pregnant."

"I'm fat."

"That's because you're pregnant," Jonathan informed his wife, sitting onto the edge of the bed as he fiddled with the tie around his neck, pulling it in different directions until it sat perfectly against his chest and he did up the buttons on his cuffs. His wife remained stood at the end of the room, looking in the mirror as she held up the red dress to her body and sighed to herself.

"I'm too fat!" she complained again as Jonathan took a deep breath, controlling his annoyance before he stood up and shrugged into his jacket.

"That's because you're pregnant," he reminded her and she shook her head quickly, her limp blonde curls moving around her face as she dropped the dress to the floor and stomped her foot like a little child.

"I thought I was supposed to have a natural glowing look?" she informed her husband who pinched the bridge of his nose, telling himself it was just the hormones that were messing around with her as he checked his watch.

"You do," he assured her. "You look beautiful to me every day."

"You're my husband," she said dryly. "You're supposed to say that."

"If it helps to calm you then I'm open to anything," Jonathan assured her, kissing her on the cheek as his arm wrapped itself around her waist and she pushed his black hair behind his ears as he remained straight lipped.

"I'm going to go baby shopping today," she informed him, still playing with his hair as he nodded in agreement.

"Okay," he simply spoke. "Don't overdo it though; you look like you're ready any day now."

"Is that because I'm fat?" she asked him and he shook his head at her, wishing he could bite his tongue some days as she remained silent and he wondered if she was about to cry. Why did she think she was fat? She was pregnant! Did she not realise that she had another human living inside of her? Of course she did. She ate enough for the pair of them.

"You're pregnant," Jonathan reasoned with her. "Look, I have to go to work. Just...please, don't do anything strenuous, okay?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "I get it."

"Because I would love to be at the birth of our child," he informed her, grabbing his briefcase as he left their bedroom and moved into the living room, picking it up from the wooden coffee table as Isabelle stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her enlarged stomach as she remained looking at her husband.

"I intend for you to be," she promised him and he grinned again at her, picking his keys up from the small dining table as he looked at the majority of baby stuff which was contained in the living room. He never knew having children would be this costly or time consuming. "And, I can't give birth yet. You won't let me put the cot up and you haven't done it."

"I'll do it," he promised her. "I managed with the bookshelf, didn't I?"

"Yes," Isabelle said, looking over to it as it stood in the corner near the window of the ground floor flat. "Hence why the shelves are wonky."

"You're always so picky," he complained, placing his glasses onto his nose as Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"Have a good day, dear," she called out to him as he grinned and closed the door behind him, shaking his head as he failed to believe what he had.

He made his way through the foyer of the small apartment building before moving onto the quiet street which they lived on. He walked to work most days, preferring some air. Harrows Street was small and quaint, full of large white apartments with black fences lining their way and an uneven pavement which led onto the busier streets of London.

Jonathan failed to believe his good luck sometimes. He had managed to find a job as a psychiatrist in a private practice which had begun expansion. Apparently, he had a talent for it. If only they knew his true talent. He and Isabelle had remarried in a small ceremony with just them two. It was like the Vegas wedding he had initially proposed on having.

And, she was ready to give birth any day now. The baby was growing healthily inside of her, doing what it should. She never stopped smiling as they went to the scans, her face alight with joy as she looked at Jonathan who had to force the smile onto his lips for her. Physically the baby was fine. Mentally, was a different issue.

...

Isabelle quickly changed out of her pyjamas and placed on a pair of trousers along with her white blouse as she looked at herself in the mirror. It was no use. Everything which she tried on looked terrible on her. She didn't suit pregnancy. Well, she didn't think she did. She'd warned Jonathan that another child was not on the agenda for a while and he had chuckled, simply clearing the table away as she continued to eat the sweets he had bought her. Her cravings were certainly up and down.

She felt a sudden bump in her stomach, shaking it off as she began to move out of the apartment, checking the patio doors were locked as she wandered to the shops of London, looking for baby toys and maybe some neutral clothes. The gender was unknown; both of them deciding that would be for the best. Isabelle barely noted how the baby continued to kick at her until she doubled over in pain, grabbing onto a table full of jumpers for support as a shop assistant moved over to her.

"Are you okay, Miss?"

"Yes," Isabelle said, her voice not convincing as she suddenly heard the splashing noise from beneath her and she looked down as the shop assistant panicked.

"Your water has broken," she said. "I'll call for an ambulance."

...

"Dr Crane," his assistant's voice spoke out as she poked her head around the wooden door, looking on as the man finished writing down his notes in his notepad and he looked up at her, peering through his glasses and wondering what she wanted.

"Yes?"

"The hospital just called. Your wife has gone into labour."

Jonathan dropped the pen which he had been writing with as he stood up quickly, his chair rolling back as he did so and he rushed to the coat stand, picking up his jacket and flinging it over his arm as he filled his briefcase with the paperwork.

"Cancel all of my appointments for the rest of the day," he demanded from her and she nodded, holding the door open as Jonathan slammed his case shut, picking it up and then looking at her as he thought about what else needed doing.

"Actually, try to get Robert to take them...some of them are important. And tell him about Mrs Ryan and her husband...she's needy and won't talk to him unless she can trust him..."

"Yes, Dr Crane," she agreed and Jonathan smiled once, thinking about what was about to happen as his assistant looked at him.

"Well...I'd best go and see how Isabelle is getting on..." he said, his voice full of business as the assistant stifled a laugh. It was rare he allowed himself a moment of happiness at work. He was always so cold and stiff. This was certainly a different side to him.

...

"Where's Jonathan?" Isabelle wailed, her hands holding onto the mask which she had, giving her oxygen as she lay on the hospital bed in the gown, feeling the baby moving inside of her as the midwife made a fuss and Isabelle flung her head back, trying not to yell out in pain.

"Your husband is on the way, Mrs Crane," he assured her and Isabelle shook her head, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead as she tried to stop herself from wanting to push. He had to be here. He had to.

"You need to push, Mrs Crane. The baby won't wait," the midwife said sternly and Isabelle wailed out in pain again.

"I can't!" she yelled. "He's not here!"

"No need to worry, Mrs Crane. He's here now," the midwife said as the door flung open and Jonathan stumbled in, dumping his briefcase onto the empty chair as Isabelle glared at him.

"You're late!" she snapped and he blinked profusely at her, removing his glasses as she screamed out in pain again.

"Is it that bad?" he asked her, picking her hand up as she squeezed it tightly so he feared for circulation. Clearly, the glare he was receiving didn't warrant spoken words for an answer as Isabelle yelled again and Jonathan stood by her side.

"You're doing great," the midwife promised her. "You just need to push a little harder."

"How?" Isabelle yelled. "How can that thing come from my-"

"-Isabelle," Jonathan warned her and placed his cold hand onto her hot cheek, stroking her hair from her face as he bent down slightly, his eyes looking into hers and promising her that she would be okay. "You're going to be fine. You're going to do this and then you're going to see that it was worth it...our baby...okay? Keep pushing. You have to keep pushing."

Isabelle took a deep breath, sitting upright as she pushed hard and Jonathan wrapped his arm around her shoulders, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she remained squeezing his hand.

"One more push!" the woman called out and Isabelle leant back again before pushing.

"We can see the head," the woman assured Isabelle. "One more push, sweetheart."

"Oh God," Isabelle complained. She did what was asked, letting out one final yell before she collapsed back against the bed, panting as she heard the wails of the baby fill the room. Jonathan quickly kissed his wife on the forehead, holding her tight to him as the nurses wrapped the baby and made sure it was healthy.

"Is it okay?" Isabelle checked, Jonathan remaining silent and slightly pale due to his circulation being cut off as the midwife nodded once, wrapping the baby into a blanket and looking down at it.

"It's a girl and perfectly healthy," she informed them and Isabelle felt tears move into her eye as the nurse gently descended the baby into her arms and she held onto her delicately, wondering how to hold her without hurting her as her cries settled down.

"Do you have a name for her?"

"Not yet," Isabelle said, unable to take her eyes from her child as Jonathan looked down onto her, her small beady eyes looking back at him and he felt something rise in his chest as the baby curled her hand around Isabelle's finger and his wife smiled down at her with glee. She looked across to Jonathan who looked back at her as she kissed him on the cheek and he smiled at her.

"She's beautiful," Isabelle commented.

"She looks so fragile," Jonathan mumbled and the midwife chuckled.

"She's fit and healthy yet fragile," she agreed with Jonathan. "You need to take care of them two Mr Crane."

...

Isabelle had begun to worry. They'd brought their baby home the day after and she had been at home for one week. Jonathan continued to go to work, claiming they needed some money coming into the household as Isabelle cared for their little girl.

She knew Jonathan was scared of looking after a child. He was scared of breaking her or of how to even handle her. She knew he felt guilty for passing on his genes to her. Isabelle did worry to. But, she would be there for her when she needed her. Jonathan never received the help which he needed, but, he was fine now. He was fine with his tablets. Well, the voice was at bay, at least.

They still hadn't named her. Failing to agree on one name, but, she never slept. She kept both of them up at night and normally it was Isabelle who attended to her. But on the Friday night it was different. Isabelle awoke in the middle of the night, not to crying, but to silence. She looked around, her arm moving across the bed which turned out to be empty. She sat up, looking around and noted that Jonathan and their baby weren't there.

She stood up, placing her dressing gown over the shirt of Jonathan's which she slept in as she opened the bedroom door and looked into the apartment. A small light was glowing from the lamp by the sofa as she noted Jonathan laid on it, sprawled out as he spoke softly.

"And, of course, when you look at her you can understand why she is how she is. Her mother has cheated on her father. She doesn't believe in the concept of marriage, seeing as how the vows are so redundant in today's society, but, I had to assure her that they're really not if she doesn't want them to be. Like your mother and I. We're happily married now and honour our vows."

Isabelle remained stood still, listening to him before he noted her stood in the doorway and he turned his head across to look at her as their child remained resting on his chest.

"Did I wake you?" he asked and Isabelle shook her head, remaining stood up.

"Were you talking to our daughter about one of your patients?" she wondered and he grinned. "Patient and doctor confidentiality, Doctor Crane?"

"She won't tell anyone," he said confidently. "She began to cry so I brought her out here. If you lay them where they can hear your heartbeat then they will calm down."

"I see," Isabelle mused.

"She's sleeping now so you can go back to bed. I'll stay with her."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eye as he yawned loudly. "I've been thinking about names."

"Oh?"

"How does Emma sound?" he wondered. "It's traditional yet modern."

"I like it," Isabelle agreed with her husband and he smiled to himself, pushing his hand through his hair.

"Good," he said. "Go back to bed. I'll stay with Emma Crane."

"You'll make a good dad," Isabelle assured him and he smirked to himself.

"That's the plan."

...

A/N: Just a quick one shot for anyone who read The First Sign of Madness and wondered what happened when Jonathan and Isabelle managed to elope. Hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

"You can't possibly be taunting our daughter, can you, Jonathan?" Isabelle checked with her husband as he sat on the floor, his legs crossed and covered in his black work trousers as his tie hung loosely down his shirt and he looked over at where his daughter was, sat on her bottom with her hands in front of her and clasped together as she looked back to her father.

"If I have teddy then she'll move over to me," Jonathan said, determination evident in his voice as he did so. "She loves teddy and hates anyone else holding onto it."

"So...you're holding teddy hostage to see Emma crawl? And teddy is a he, by the way," she checked with him, standing behind the leather sofa and folding the washing which she needed to iron later on after dinner. Jonathan had been sat in front of the sofa for a while, the teddy in his hands as Emma remained sat opposite him by the fireplace, glaring back at him.

"I'd hardly say that I'm holding _him _hostage," Jonathan drawled, his hands running down teddies cheeks as Isabelle shook her head in disbelief. "I'm trying to get her to crawl."

"She will crawl when she wants to, Jonathan," she promised him and he shook his head. He had been at work when Isabelle had phoned him about the momentous occasion which he had missed. He wanted to see his daughter crawl. He didn't want to miss out on anything. "You can't try and make her."

"I can," Jonathan replied, shaking his head as he did so and Emma thumped her fists onto the floor in frustration, tired of her daddy winding her up as Isabelle shook her head quickly, folding up the last shirt of Jonathan's.

"She's going to cry," she warned her husband and he rolled his eyes, crawling over to her with teddy in his grasp as he did so. He sat on his knees, handing her the animal before looking down into her eyes.

"You're a stubborn little thing," he informed his daughter as she remained staring at him with her wide blue eyes and he chuckled once, ruffling her hair before he stood up, stretching his limbs out as he felt them stiffen up and Isabelle watched as Emma began to play with her teddy.

"She's stubborn because she takes after her father," she informed him, her brow arched in Jonathan's direction as he placed his hands onto his hips and shook his head, bending down to pick Emma up into his arms, holding her tight against his chest as he did so.

"But, she does have her mother's lovely blonde hair, doesn't she?" he checked, looking down at Emma as he did so and Isabelle placed the clothes on the small stool which was hid in the corner of the apartment and sighed, running a hand through her hair as she thought about what to make for dinner.

"And she has her father's blue eyes," Isabelle reminded him. "She's a mixture of both of us."

"I just hope she doesn't have my mental condition," Jonathan complained and Isabelle didn't say anything back to him. She knew how worried he was about his daughter, but, until she became old enough, he intended to cherish her. And he did. Jonathan was certainly revelling in being a father.

"We've talked about this, Jonathan," Isabelle said after a second and she walked into the small kitchen, opening cupboards to try and find something to make for dinner. "We'll make sure Emma is safe and okay. We don't need to worry for the moment. They've told us that she is a perfectly healthy baby...I mean...she hasn't even begun to walk. She needs to say her first word before we worry."

"Oh, I know what that will be," Jonathan informed his wife, an air of cockiness held in his voice as he did so.

"Do you?"

"It is bound to be daddy," he challenged Isabelle, resting Emma into her little play pen as he undid another button to his pinstriped shirt.

"How much do you want to be that it isn't?" she wondered from him and he took a moment to think about the challenge.

"You think mummy will be her first word?"

"Positive," Isabelle replied, smirking devilishly at her husband as he moved into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her waist as she played with the collar to his shirt. "If I win then you have to change her diaper for the next two months when you're here."

"And if I win...well...I'd prefer not to say in front of the baby," he whispered into her ear and she hit him on the arm as he chuckled, removing his glasses from his eyes and walking back into the living room.

"Doctor Crane!" Isabelle snapped at him. "I am disgusted."

"Of course, honey," he said with sarcasm in his voice and Isabelle finally settled on what to cook for dinner.

...

Jonathan managed to wash the dishes that night as Isabelle went to tend to Emma and give her a bath before resting her to bed. She often slept for a few hours, giving Isabelle and Jonathan some time to themselves. Granted, it wasn't a lot because both of them ended up falling asleep on the sofa.

It was one night when Jonathan finally won his bet. Months had seemed to fly past and Emma was refusing to speak, no matter how much coaxing Jonathan gave her. He often spent a few moments of the day speaking the same word over and over again, trying to get into her brain. He was sure that his wife was also using tactics to get Emma to say her first word. Jonathan had even tried bribery by showing her ice cream. He had heard that every child loved it. Isabelle had accused him of corrupting her.

Both of them were as bad as each other.

The pair of them were laid on their bed, Jonathan reading through his case notes and Isabelle reading her book as Emma lay in her cot, sleeping soundly. Both of them often stood up and checked on her, making sure she was safe and sleeping soundly.

"Dear God," Jonathan suddenly complained and he rolled his eyes at the woman who he was seeing tomorrow as he skimmed through his notes.

"What?" Isabelle wondered, still looking at her page as She pulled the cuff down on the shirt which she wore.

"Mrs Jacobs is coming in tomorrow," he mumbled. "I'd tell you more but I'm not allowed."

"I see," Isabelle mumbled before they heard the voice.

"Daddy."

Isabelle dropped her book as Jonathan looked up from his notes and at the cot which sat at the end of the bed and a small grin moved onto his face as he did so. Isabelle shook her head, pressing a finger to her lips as she stood up, moving over to the cot and looking at Emma as she slept soundly.

"She's sleeping," she whispered. "It doesn't count."

"What?" Jonathan snapped at his wife, pushing the covers back and standing on the other side of the cot as Isabelle folded her arms tightly and shook her head in stubbornness.

"She's sleeping. It doesn't count if she is sleeping, Jonathan," she informed him and he threw his notes back onto the bed, glaring at his wife.

"It does, too," he replied. "You're just jealous."

"I'm not jealous because it doesn't count. We could both be imaging it."

"I doubt that."

"It still doesn't count," Isabelle taunted her husband as Jonathan smiled down at his daughter.

"I think you'll find that it does," Jonathan continued to grin and he moved back to his side of the bed, sliding into it and allowing the smug grin to remain on his face. Isabelle rolled her eyes, climbing back into bed and feeling gutted that Emma's first word was daddy.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Jonathan checked and she turned her light off as she managed to lie down and Jonathan moved closer to her, kissing her on the neck.

"You can't handle it, can you? She's a daddy's girl," Jonathan informed her.

"Fine," Isabelle exasperated. "You win."

"Glad you admit to it," Jonathan replied and she turned around, resting her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. "Don't worry...maybe the next one will be a mummy's girl."

"The next one?" Isabelle wondered, her brow cocked in his direction and he shrugged airily.

"I thought a family was what you wanted?" Jonathan asked her.

"It is," she nodded. "I thought you'd be happy with one."

"I'll be happy as long as I continue to prove you wrong."

"You're insufferable."

"But you love me."

"Luckily for you, I do."

...

A/N: Another chapter to my one shot so it now a two shot! May continue building on them, not sure yet!


	3. Chapter 3

"Please stop crying," Isabelle begged her daughter as she sat in her arms, wailing loudly and refusing to do anything but yell at her mother. Isabelle wanted to know what she was doing wrong. She had thought everything was going perfectly. Jonathan was beginning to open up to his daughter a bit more, showing his softer side which he liked to keep well hidden. He had even stopped holding teddy hostage to get her do what he wanted. As their relationship became increasingly happy, Isabelle's became increasingly hard.

"Emma...sweetie...calm down for mummy, please?" Isabelle pleaded with her daughter, but she wasn't having any of it. Her cries became louder as Isabelle moved around the room, holding her tightly in her arms and soothing her with gentle pats on the back. She didn't want changing and she certainly didn't want feeding. She was seven months and Isabelle still breast fed her. But, Emma wasn't having any of it recently. She had become stubborn towards anything.

"I can hear Emma from down the hall," Jonathan's voice called out as he entered the living room and shut the door to their ground floor apartment and he looked over at his wife. She seemed to be on the brink of tears as he dropped his briefcase onto the floor and pushed his glasses further onto his nose.

"She won't stop, Jonathan," Isabelle said and the doctor moved over to the pair of them, looking at his daughter as tears remained falling down her face. "I've tried everything...she's just crying...I don't know what to do."

"You don't need to get yourself worked up," he informed her, his voice stern and strong as he held a finger out to Emma and she wrapped her small hand around it and he looked back at his wife. "Sometimes...she will cry...and we won't know what for."

"It isn't that," Isabelle shook her head, trying to stop herself from welling up. "She won't take my breast, either...I mean...is there something wrong with them?"

Jonathan had to stop himself from taking that open invitation to look down at them as he wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her tightly to him as he did so.

"There is nothing wrong with them," Jonathan promised her. "She's just not hungry, Isabelle. You need to calm down, okay?"

"How?" Isabelle asked and Emma continued to cry loudly.

"Let me take her," Jonathan said and she handed him Emma, allowing her to be held closely by her father as he patted her back, rubbing small circles against the pink baby-grow which she had and Isabelle sank down into the sofa, burying her face into her hands as Jonathan watched her.

"Maybe...I'm not cut out for this...maybe...I'm not supposed to be a mother..."

"Hey," Jonathan snapped at her. "Don't talk like that."

"How can I not?" Isabelle asked him. "Recently...she won't feed...she cries whenever I'm near her alone...maybe she doesn't like me."

"You're being absurd," Jonathan drawled to his wife as Emma began to settle down slightly and he thanked the heavens for the sudden peace and quiet. "You're an excellent mother, Isabelle. How can you think anything but that?"

"Because she's really taken to you and she won't have anything to do with me," Isabelle complained and Jonathan shrugged.

"It happens," he assured her. "She's just going through a phase. You don't need to get disheartened by it."

"Why does she stop crying when you hold her?" she asked her husband, standing back up as Jonathan rested Emma down into her small basket in the living room and he walked back over to her, his hands resting onto her shoulders as he looked her in the eye.

"Left hand side," he whispered. "It's the side of the heartbeat, Isabelle."

"I've tried that," she complained, flapping her arm by her side as Jonathan shook his head.

"Don't get yourself worked up again," he warned her, sensing the fresh tears were about to flow as she inhaled sharply. "Try reading her a story. The mother's voice is the most calming thing."

"I tried...but she kept crying..." Isabelle protested as Jonathan ran his hands down her side, stopping at her hips and pulling her closer to his body as he did so.

"You need to just keep trying," he told her. "Spend one on one time and don't get panicky. If she senses that then she's going to be even worse, okay?"

"I just don't want to be a bad mother," Isabelle whispered and Jonathan nodded, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him tightly as he kissed her on the side of her neck, taking a deep breath as he did so.

"You won't be," he promised her. He knew what a bad mother was. He had had one. And Isabelle most certainly wasn't one. She was just going through a rough spot. Like so many parents do.


	4. Chapter 4

Jonathan was becoming tired of work. Every time he went there he seemed to miss some important milestone of his daughter's life. The voice in his head told him to snap out of it. It told him to stop being so pathetic and weak. Whenever it struck, Jonathan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the necessary tablet, swallowing it without a drink and allowing the voice to go back to the hole which it crawled out of. Jonathan wasn't crazy. He wasn't going to let anyone think that he was. He had almost lost his wife because of the voice. He didn't intend to go through that again.

The scary thing about life was how time flew by. Before they knew it, Emma was one and already Isabelle was becoming worried about the future. Jonathan remained calm about it all, not letting his wife fluster too much as she wondered when Emma should move into her nursery and have a bed of her own. He had bought her a book to tell her what to do. She'd accused him of being patronising at first, but, when he came back from work he saw her reading it, Emma across her lap as she found out useful things.

"I don't know if I am comfortable leaving her with a babysitter," Isabelle wittered as Jonathan did his tie up, knowing what conversation they were about to have as he placed on his suit. The office was holding its annual Christmas Dinner a week before the festivities took place. Jonathan had declined last time, saying that Emma and Isabelle were his main priority, but, he didn't have much of a choice this year.

"Isabelle," Jonathan complained as his wife looked at their daughter who was laid on their bed, silently napping. "She will be fine. Marie is your friend, isn't she? She'll be fine with her."

"I know," Isabelle said, taking a deep breath and calming herself down as she did so. "She's had two kids of her own. I just worry. You know what I'm like."

"Don't I just?" Jonathan spoke rhetorically and Isabelle nodded sternly at herself. "It will only be for an hour or so. Then we can come home and open a bottle of wine and watch whatever TV you want to."

"And who said romance was dead?" Isabelle grinned at him as he fastened up a button to his jacket and sat down beside Emma, stroking the hair on her head as he did so.

"Certainly not me."

...

"Do you think I should phone her?" Isabelle worried as she stood beside Jonathan in the large foyer. Psychiatrists from every firm in London had gathered there that night and Jonathan had been looking at them, depicting what they were thinking as Isabelle felt vulnerable. It was bad enough being married to one of them, never mind having to stand in a room full of them.

"No," Jonathan said, picking up a glass of champagne from the passing tray and handing it to his wife. "Emma will be fine. You need to stop worrying."

"A phone call isn't really worrying," she informed Jonathan, playing with the locket around her neck as she bit down on her lip and he arched a brow at her. "It's merely making sure that she is okay."

"It is also known as worrying, Isabelle," he deadpanned with her and she rolled her eyes as he nodded once at a man who passed him. Isabelle downed the champagne quickly as Jonathan shook his head at her.

"What?" she asked him.

"You shouldn't drink champagne in one go," he scolded her gently. "It will go straight to your head."

"I'm fine," she assured him, looking around the room as she did so. "Besides, it helps to stop me from worrying."

"It helps to get you drunk," he mumbled and she winked lightly at him.

"And don't you know it," she informed him as he scowled slightly, stopping himself from grinning back at her as he did so. She noted how he was trying to be serious and she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

"Seriously, Jonathan," she pleaded with him. "I need you to actually try and distract me or else I'm going to go mad with worry."

"Well, here's your chance," Jonathan said as a tall, lean man made their way over to them and Jonathan smiled quickly.

"Dr Mason," he greeted him.

"Dr Crane. And please call me Dan. We're not in the clinic now."

"In that case, it's Jonathan," he said and Isabelle remained slightly shocked at him. He loved being known as Dr Crane. It was one of his strange obsessions. "May I introduce my wife, Isabelle."

"Mrs Crane," the man acknowledged her before he delved into a deep conversation with Jonathan about psychology and Isabelle took her second glass of champagne to numb the dull conversation.

...

"You're drunk."

"I'm tipsy."

"You're drunk, Isabelle."

"I'm happy."

"We're not arguing."

"Yes you are, Mr Grumpy Pants," Isabelle laughed to herself, unable to control it as she looked at him and he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close to him as they walked down the street. He rolled his eyes gently and moved slowly by her side as she continued to giggle like a little child. He knew Isabelle's capability for alcohol was a minimum level in comparison to normal people. He wasn't shocked when she finally began to laugh loudly when they reached the fresh air and it began to mess with her mind.

"Okay, Isabelle," Jonathan agreed, humouring her as she almost stumbled in the heels on her feet, laughing loudly as she did so. "Let's get you home."

Isabelle spent the remainder of the walk home giggling to herself as Jonathan smirked, unable to believe what he was seeing. His wife hadn't drunk for a long time. Having Emma with her kept her busy and she always needed to be sober. She went out for one night and ended up completely out of it. Jonathan didn't begrudge her it. She was quite entertaining.

"Dr Crane," Marie greeted when she saw the couple walk in, Isabelle stumbling by her husband as she walked over to the sofa, dropping onto it and closing her eyes as Jonathan looked at Marie, his hands on his hips.

"Is she okay?" Marie asked and Jonathan nodded quickly.

"The alcohol has gone to her head," he simply spoke. "How was Emma?"

"Oh, she was fine," Marie shrugged. "She cried for a bit...you know...where's mummy or daddy and all that."

"Thank you for looking after her," Jonathan spoke gratefully and Marie smiled at him.

"It was a joy. She's in her cot fast asleep."

"Yes!" Isabelle yelled out. "Thank you very, very, very, much...Marie!"

"No problem, Is," Marie responded, a wry smile on her lips as Jonathan grumbled and let Marie out of the apartment.

"Come on you," Jonathan spoke, moving over to his wife, grabbing her around the wrists and hauling her from the sofa and into his arms as she stumbled. He scooped her against his chest, carrying her through to the bedroom as she squealed in delight.

"I love you, Jon Jon," she said to him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You and Em...you're all I want...I love you so, so much!"

"I know, Isabelle," Jonathan said, hoping that she would keep it down so that she wouldn't wake his sleeping daughter. He quickly rested her on the bed, removing his tie and jacket before he helped her out of her heels and dress, quickly shoving his shirt onto her body as she yawned loudly and crawled down the mattress, her eyes looking at Emma as she did so. Jonathan changed into his pyjamas, pulling the covers to the duvet back before sitting in the bed, looking at Isabelle's back as he did so.

"Come to bed, Is," he mumbled and she turned her head to look at him, smiling lightly as she did so.

"She looks like you," Isabelle drawled, shuffling back along the bed and into the covers, pushing herself against Jonathan as she did so. "I think she's beautiful."

"I think so, too," Jonathan whispered to his wife. "We need to be quiet though. We don't want to wake her, do we?"

"No!" Isabelle shrieked, doing the opposite of being quiet as he heard gurgles from the cot and Isabelle clapped her hand over her mouth and Jonathan glared at her as Emma began to cry. He stood up, moving to the cot and bending down, picking Emma up into his hold as Isabelle knelt on the quilt, biting down on her bottom lip as she did so.

"Sorry," she whispered to her husband before she burped loudly and clutched her stomach. Jonathan groaned again as Emma continued crying and he pointed to the en-suite bathroom.

"In there," he growled and Isabelle took off to bathroom. He heard the noise of her throwing up into the toilet and then coughing as he patted Emma on the back, standing in the doorway to the bathroom as he did so.

"Are you okay?" he asked his wife as she knelt on the floor, her head drooping into the bowl.

"Yes," she muttered. "I'm fine."

Jonathan juggled Emma in one hand, grabbing Isabelle's hair and holding it back as she continued to vomit into the toilet. When she was finally done, he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her back to the bedroom and allowing her to pass out on the bed. He laid Emma in her cot, her cries dying as he did so and he went back to the bathroom, clearing up the mess which his wife had made.

He looked back into the room as the two women in his life slept and he shook his head, smiling in disbelief.

...

A/N: I know that I haven't updated this story in a while; however, I felt that I needed to do something. They are just going to be a series of one shot's on Jonathan and Isabelle's life with Emma and that's all I intend to do. Downside, I'm off to Italy for one week so no updates until next week, I'm afraid! But, please, do review!


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